


The Immortal and the Lake of Avalon

by BlueandDepressedHuman



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Returns, Battle of Camlann, Immortal Merlin, M/M, mentions of Galahad, mentions of Gwaine, mentions of Lancelot, mentions of Leon, mentions of Mordred, mentions of Percival, or at all, so it doesn't follow Merlin to a T, sorry - Freeform, this was a creative writing assignment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueandDepressedHuman/pseuds/BlueandDepressedHuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin goes back to Avalon after so many years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Immortal and the Lake of Avalon

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything, sadly.

      The old man could remember, with perfect clarity, the last time he stood on the shores of the lake spread out in front of him. He was much younger than, his hair, pitch black and short at the time, had grown out and turned white; his beard, that he didn’t have, once upon a time, reached his mid-section. His body, while still long and lanky, had become frail, and the wrinkles on his face stood out like mountains on a flat plain.

     He’d felt so terrified the last time he stood before the lake, all alone for once in his existence- his suddenly extended existence. That last time he wandered the shores, he’d started a new life, one he’d led every day after that; running from place to place to avoid detection, learning new things, meeting new people and never getting too close to anyone for fear of loving and losing them like everyone else in his time as an immortal.

     For the first couple of years the man had kept his name, but then people became curious because, “Surely Merlin, the chief advisor to the late King Arthur Pendragon, would have aged in twenty years.” So, Merlin changed his name for the first time on his fiftieth summer, while he only looked to have lived twenty-five. He decided on the name William, or Will for short, in honor of his childhood friend from his village, and from there every twenty years Merlin took on a new alias. Sometimes he would use variations of his own name: Emrys, Ambrosius or Myriddin; sometimes he used the names of his late friends: Morgan, Gwaine, Lance or Percy; other times Merlin would even change his visage to look like an old man, it made him unassuming to pedestrians.

     For the next thousand years or there about, Merlin, or whatever name he chose for himself at the time, traveled the world, learning new things and meeting all sorts of people. He had hopes that once Arthur came back, as the prophecy said he would, that knowing the things he knew would help them on whatever perilous adventure they would go on. Until Arthur’s return though, Merlin wandered and learned and grew bitter and lonely.

     By the time the twenty-first century came around Merlin lived in America and had for the previous ten years, he’d liked it well enough but he couldn’t ignore the urges to go home, or, at least where his home had once stood. The homesickness came every hundred years or so and he could usually ignore it, but this time was different. The urge felt like someone had thrown a lasso around him and was slowly pulled him to the end of the rope. So, when the feelings came, he allowed himself to follow, wherever it led.

     Merlin started his trek back to Britain in California, where he’d lived at the time, and made his way east until he reached New York. From there he’d hopped on a plane and flew to Great Britain on the other side of the Atlantic. He’d figured that, once he arrived, the feeling would leave him, but, surprisingly, it only became stronger. The next several months consisted of Merlin backpacking across the country, following the feeling in his gut, until, one day, he arrived in a small, out-of-the-way town and the feeling, finally, left him.

* * *

     The small town seemed ordinary to Merlin at first, but, after only a few days of living there, Merlin could practically see the magic dancing in the wind. It appeared to be old protection magic, and for the life of Merlin, even if said life was unreasonably long, he couldn’t figure out why that magic thrived so well in such a plain town. Two months into his stay, Merlin found out.

* * *

      Merlin had decided to take a walk under the guise of an old man, his withered face put the townspeople at ease and it felt easier to look closer to his actual age once in a while then have an ancient man in a youthful body; he didn’t have a destination in mind when he’d started his stroll, he had woken up that morning wanting to take a walk.

      Merlin left his house in the early dawn, the sun only just peeking up over the horizon, and made his way down the dirt drive that led to his small cottage. Stopping at the intersection at the end of the drive he decided that a walk in the woods would be refreshing and took a left following another trail going into the wooded area. Four minutes after beginning his walk, Merlin arrived at the edge of the trees and paused for a moment, tilting his head back, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath, smelling the earth and clean air that permeated the timberland. Woods brought back memories of his first life, the one where he didn’t have to hide in the shadows, where he could use his magic freely and where all of his long lost friends were still alive.   Opening his eyes again Merlin started off into the forest.

* * *

       Merlin walked through the trees for a few moments before the memories began to assault him and he stumbled. Looking around he could see echoes of his old friends on a hunting trip. Arthur led a group of young knights past the trees, Sir Leon, Arthur’s second, followed him to the left and Sir Lancelot on the right. Behind them four other knights, Sir’s Gwaine, Percival, Galahad and Mordred, spread out through the underbrush all following their leader towards their prey.

      Merlin shook his head and closed his eyes tight to dispel the images and stumbled again, tripping backwards and falling on his arse. When he opened his eyes moments later the echoes had left him and he appeared to be alone. Merlin got to his feet unsteadily, bracing his hand on a tree behind him, before choosing a direction and heading off in, what he thought, would lead him back to his cottage. He appeared wrong when minutes later he stepped into a clearing and a wide lake spread out in front of him. For a third time Merlin stumbled, his breath catching in his throat, drying out his mouth. The Lake of Avalon, King Arthur’s resting place, spanned out in front of Merlin. Taking a few hesitant steps forward he remembered his last time by the lake.

* * *

      The battle of Camlann had been grueling and the loses were many; though no loss was as great as that of the King. King Arthur fought on the front lines, as he always had, and the wound inflicted upon him by Mordred seemed fatal, but Morgana, feeling suddenly remorseful of her wrongdoings, suggested that they take the King to the Lake of Avalon.

      The Lake of Avalon was said to hold a woman, a powerful sorceress, who called herself the Lady of the Lake, and who could heal their king, if they arrived in time. So Merlin and Morgana set off with Arthur. The pair traveled night and day, and, by the end of the sixth day, they arrived at the lake.

      The lake was a beautiful, sparkling blue that glistened in the sun and rippled with the wind. In the middle of the lake was a small island, upon which sat a secluded stone tower. Standing in front of the lake was a woman who appeared to be waiting for them to arrive and when she saw them she smiled and said, “Welcome weary travelers, to the Lake of Avalon.”

     “Can you help us save him?” Merlin had asked, gesturing towards his King.

      The woman’s smile fell and she shook her head. “No Warlock, I cannot heal your King.”

     “Please, you have to save him!” Morgana begged and the woman’s frown firmed.

     “There is only one way to save your king, Warlock, Witch, though I fear that it will come at a great price,” she replied.

     “Anything,” both Merlin and Morgana said in eager unison.

     The woman, by then identified as the Lady of the Lake, explained to the two that it would take time heal Arthur completely and only a monumental event would be able to wake him. By that time the new world would be a strange place for the King and he would need someone to guide him, someone who had already seen everything and could teach Arthur about it and how to live in a strange new world, so different from his own. Though, until the King did awaken, that person would not be able to die or grow old naturally and they would have to live with whatever they would see in the future.

     Merlin immediately volunteered to become immortal, he wouldn’t let Arthur wake up and only have Morgana as company, even if she seemed changed now, she had tried to kill him to many times for him to really trust her. The Lady of the Lake looked at him, with a slightly amused expression on her face, as if she knew what he had thought, before letting out a sigh and telling Merlin and Morgana to put Arthur into the boat she had on the shore. After getting Arthur situated the three magical beings pushed the boat into the water and let it go. Halfway across the lake the boat stopped and slowly began to sink, too slow and graceful to be anything other than magic.

     When the boat and Arthur were completely under, the Lady of the Lake turned to Merlin again, “Arthur Pendragon is the Once and Future King. One day, Albion and Camelot will need him again, and, in turn, he will need you to guide him, as you have done before. When he rises from the lake you will know, but, until then, you must leave the lake and not return. Heed my words Merlin Emrys, if you attempt to return your King to you before the time comes, the consequences will be disastrous,” and with that the Lady of the Lake stepped into Avalon and disappeared in a sudden fog.

     For the next two day Morgana and Merlin stayed by the shores, mourning their lost friend, but, by the third day, Merlin couldn’t bear the lake any longer and left to start his new, immortal life, and prepare himself for the misadventures Arthur and he were bound to have, once he woke. 

* * *

      Merlin snapped back to reality with a choked off sob, bringing his hand up to his suddenly smooth, hairless face, then running it through his short, dark hair as he straightened his spine, wincing as the bones crackled and popped. With his now 20/20 eyesight Merlin could see a ripple work its way outward from a spot in the lake near the island and he let his tears run freely down his face. The blond head of his King slowly emerged and Merlin smiled widely before taking off towards him. It was time; finally.


End file.
